Fuck Cindy Lou Who, or Christmas isn't Awful
by sariahbradshaw
Summary: Emma Swan is not a scrooge. She's not. Just because pine trees and Christmas Carols aren't her thing, doesn't make her a Scrooge. CaptainSwan One-shot.


Disclaimer: Nope.

A/N: Me at the start of this monster. "I'll write some small little holiday fluff after Baby."

In addition, this little one-shot wouldn't have made it prior to the holidays without Grumpy Insomniac to save all of us from my egregious grammar. Anyone who likes this story should message her a letter of thanks for saving me from, well...me.

Warnings: Smut.

Emma Swan is not a Scrooge.

There are plenty of things she's always liked about Christmas. Hot cocoa stands popping up on every street corner. Cinnamon suddenly added to everything. Elementary school plays with ridiculous amounts of cookies and mini wieners left out in the lobby for foster kids to potentially come by and filch. All of the thieving, drunk assholes that seemed to crawl out of the woodwork in December that always ensured her a handsome check. Candy canes. Candy canes were fucking fantastic.

So what if she thinks wrapping paper is the stupidest waste of ink and time every invented? Or that Christmas Carols make her want to bash her head into a wall. Not everyone likes snow and she fractured her ankle one year chasing down a perp in heels on the ice. She thinks pine trees smell like wood varnish but really, none of this was unusual.

She was not a Scrooge.

Emma maintained this even as she scowled down at the star-shaped cookie she was supposed to be frosting, pressing too hard with the knife and causing it to break.

"Emma, be gentler or we won't have any left." Mary Margaret turned the corner just then, lightly scolding her daughter while she moved her own tray of perfectly decorated tree-shaped confections to the table, humming to the jaunty sound of Jingle Bells playing on the radio.

Because of course Storybrooke had a 24-hour Christmas music station. Even curses couldn't prevent that.

"Yeah mom. We even gave you the easiest job so you couldn't mess it up too much." Her son chimes in from his perch on the stool, dipping pretzels in warm chocolate and swirling.

She shot an accusing look at the broken cookie before her. _Traitor._ "Yeah, yeah laugh it up kid."

Henry proceeded to do just that as his other mother walked into the room, elegant fingers absently pulling lush red silk together into a perfect bow without her ever looking down. "What's so funny?"

Henry looked over his shoulder and shot Regina a grin. "Emma can't frost _at all_."

Emma shot him a dirty look, muttering to herself and tossing another broken cookie in the trash can because-

("It's for Christmas, Emma, we can't serve broken ones. It has to look nice.")

Regina's eyebrows raised in a regal fashion as she pointedly watched the blonde toss the cookie into the garbage.

"If the knife proves too hard for you to operate, Miss Swan, why not try your magic?"

The furrow in Emma's forehead deepened and her son broke out into chuckles again. "She tried to. She set the chocolate on fire and grandma had to make a whole new batch and banned mom from pretzel duty. She's only allowed to touch the sugar cookies now."

She snatched another undecorated cookie from the sheet. "I didn't mean to make it that hot, you distracted me!"

Snap. A point of the star crumbled. Another cookie assassinated.

Regina's lips curled in amusement and their son nearly fell off his stool, shaking with laughter at the sight of Emma glaring at another broken cookie.

She was _not_ a Scrooge.

Her father entered the room just then, heavy green parka enclosing his form and cheeks red from the cold. "Here Emma, why don't you try your hand at lighting untangling rather than cookie frosting? Your mother gets protective about her Christmas cookies."

When Mary Margaret had invited everyone over to help decorate the loft on the first, Emma hadn't been _thrilled_. Baking, ribbon-making and christmas music seemed much more Snow White's beat than hers. However, Henry's eyes had lit up and he started making requests for all kinds of treats right then and there, so she knew she would be attending. Anything that made her kid that happy was worth it. At the moment, however, she was sincerely regretting accepting her mother's invitation.

"No shit." Emma said, wiping her hands and throwing the hand-towel by the tray. She quickly followed after David before her mother could enter again and see another mangled star.

Bing Crosby's croon followed her outside.

The cold air warned of snow and the sky was pale gray. Her father handed her a bundle of tangled strands, the little white bulbs getting snagged on the larger icicle shapes of the second strand, before heading to another side of the apartment. Tossing it in her hands a few times, Emma struggled to find an end to begin pulling. She threw some of the mess over her shoulder so she could see better, fingers probing for a loose strand of lights to pull. However, the deeper she probed the more knotted the strands seemed to get. After a few minutes, Emma had to surrender. She was now hopelessly entangled in the strands, messy lines coiling around her shoulder, arm, and hands. Tugging the green strands now just caused it to tighten on her shoulder and Emma took a deep breath and closed her eyes to keep from screaming in frustration and stomping her feet like a child. (Or magically blowing every damn light bulb on the strands and possibly setting fire to Anton's tree farm.)

A close chuckle made her eyes snap back open, starting at the sight of her pirate suddenly feet from her with a wide smirk on his face.

"The Saviour gets defeated by some pretty lights and some string?" Killian asked, hook lightly tapping on the strand.

She was not amused. "Don't you have some tinsel to maim or something?"

Seemingly unperturbed by her tone, he stepped closer, hook latching onto the lights. "Here love, let me help."

Emma scoffed. She had _two_ hands and ended up in this mess. Clearly he was just going to make it worse-

Hand and hook moved methodically until Emma was freed minutes later, while he stood holding two perfectly untangled strands of lights and a teasing grin on his face above the ridiculous red-and-green scarf Mary Margaret had tossed to him when he offered to brave the cold and assist David with the lights.

She was not a scrooge.

But this was all too much.

She stared at the pirate, adorably festive despite having never heard of the holiday until recently,

(Swan, what the devil is going about the town?"

"Er-Killian, what?"

"The lights, love. Everyone has suddenly decorated their storefronts with shining baubles and just the other day I spotted the dwarves turning some trees into shrines. And everything has turned into a red and green palette so-Swan, are you laughing at me?"

"I-no, Hook. Okay, yes but not really at you. It's more like, I never realized how absurd Christmas shit was until just now."

"Christmas?"

"Yeah it's-this day where...you know what, why don't we get home and put on some Netflix? That's just going to be easier."

 _Rudolph, Frosty,_ and _Santa Claus is coming to Town_ had proven great instructors.)

Hook stood, holding the perfectly straight lights with red-tipped ears. She thought of her mother's perfect cookies and Regina's flawless bow and Henry's talk of getting the biggest tree they could find. Her lungs squeezed.

"I need to pick something up from the station" Killian shot her a bemused look, eyebrows climbing high, but Emma didn't care how thin her excuse was. ( _Damn man would see through it anyways_ ) She needed to leave. Now. "See you back at the house."

She turned around and made it two steps before the hook snatched her wrist back, swinging her around and into his leather-clad chest. His hand came out to brace her, thumb making gentle circles on her wrist as blue eyes searched her downturned face pointedly.

"Swan, what is it love?" Emma kept her eyes fixed at his shiny black shoes, lips thinning distinctively. Elf shoes. He was wearing black fucking elf shoes like something out of _Nightmare Before Christmas_.

("Elf ears, elf ears," Henry cackled delightedly, literally going to reach up to a bewildered Hook and pinch the tip of one said ear.

Killian just barely avoided leaping back in shock, said tips reddening slightly as he scratched at his neck. "Lad, are you feeling quite alright?"

"Mom, Killian has _elf ea_ rs! Do you think they sell costumes his size? Grandpa can be Santa Claus and they can surprise Neal."

"You know, it might work Henry. After all, elves are _Santa's little helpers._ "

"Oi, Swan! Who the bloody hell are you calling _little_?! Bad form love."

"Relax, Killian. Henry just thought it'd be nice if you and your boyfriend wore matching costumes this year for Christmas."

Henry literally fell off the kitchen stool, silent tears of mirth slipping down his feet while Hook shifted between indignance, confusion, and amusement at the double assault of the house's two other occupants. The pirate had chosen to huff at that, rolling his eyes and murmuring less than kind things at the two of them while brooding in front of the fireplace.

He remained pouty right up until Henry had gone to bed chuckling and Emma pulled out _her_ costume.)

Emma had to shake the memory from her head, but apparently she had been silently ogling his shoes for long enough that Hook raised her chin with his hand, thumb lightly brushing against her dimple and fingers warm against her cheek despite their hours in the cold.

"Emma?" He searched her face, as if the topography of her cheeks would hold the answer he sought.

She bit her lip. She loved this man, she truly did. And if she could find the words to explain _how_ she was feeling, the swirling mass of young and jaded, incompetent and overwhelmed, she knew he would understand. But Emma was at a loss to explain how her mother's cookies, normally a source of greed and excitement, now made a weight settle between her ribs. She shook her head, freeing herself from his grasp and taking a forceful step back.

"I just-" Emma said almost regretfully, another step backwards. "I've just gotta go Killian. I'll see you later."

She turned before she could see the flash of hurt her departure would cause, taking wide steps to the Bug and forcing herself not to turn around. The car started up slowly, seeming to protest her fleeing.

Hook stood in place for a moment, frowning as he watched the yellow driving vessel veer off into the cold. His thoughts sifted for moments, trying to pinpoint what had happened between Swan happily ruffling her son's hair with a cup of cocoa in one hand to the lost, restless woman who fled the premises. He knew something as small as getting tangled in the damned bauble strings Dave had insisted they put up wouldn't cause such a stir.

 _So what the bloody hell_ …

"Hook," David chose that moment to reappear from his position on the other side of the house, apparently to retrieve the lights Killian had coiled around his shoulder. "Where's Emma?"

The pirate scowled, gazing almost accusingly at David as if he and his ridiculous lights were to blame for his lover's sudden departure. "She left mate."

"Left?" he repeated, brow furrowing. "What do you mean, she _left?_ "

His nostrils flared. "I mean, she all but ran into her yellow vessel and took off like the hounds of hell were nipping at her toes."

Charming held his hands up in concession. "Alright, calm down. I'm guessing you don't have any clue why?"

"Not a whit." It charred his tongue to admit that, to know that Emma was hurting and he had no idea how to fix it.

David shot a look at his truck. "Should we…" he gestured vaguely.

"No mate, I think she needs space. She'll come around in her own time."

Her father looked like he wanted to argue, but sighed instead, his breath puffing in the air. "Come on, let's head inside. Those can wait."

Killian nodded, letting the lights slide down his arm as he followed David back into the loft. The heat struck him suddenly, causing him to shiver after spending so much time outside. The smells were slightly cloying, so much sugar and sweetness and spice that he coughed lightly. Lights were strung around the loft as well, a soft white glow circling the staircase and framing the kitchen cabinets. Circular green designs- _wreaths,_ Emma's voice in his head supplied-hung from the windows, each with large red satin bows. Snow was humming in the kitchen, head in the oven, while Henry snuck confections off their plates when Regina turned to magic more lights into place. All in all, the scene seemed domestic, _charming_ , if a touch overwhelming. Hardly anything to flee over.

 _Unless_ …

Mary Margaret turned when she heard the door open, shutting the oven door closed and beaming. "David, Hook. You're just in time for some warm brownies. Where's Emma?" She peered around her husband's shoulder, as if her daughter frequently crouched behind him, waiting to jump out and shout 'Boo'!

"Emma, she...had to go." David responded, hand squeezing her shoulder as the couple shared looks of worry.

"Left? Did she get a call or something?" She looked between the two men, visibly distressed.

"Not exactly," Her husband replied, a sad smile on his face.

"Mom's gone?" Henry chimed in, giving up his theft of various treats to turn towards Killian, frowning.

"Aye lad. She had some business to tend to…"

Mary Margaret's bottom lip pouted, her eyes shining as David gave her a warm look and rubbed her shoulder. She answered his silent question. "It's just...I wanted this year to be special. It's the first time we've all been-well...the first year, Emma and I were in the Enchanted Forest, so we weren't here for ...Neverland. The lost year. The year after that…" Her voice wobbled suspiciously. "Camelot. It's the first year since the curse broke that we are all together so I wanted to make it special. I know she's been busy and none of this is really her style, but was one afternoon too much to ask for?"

She gave a slightly heartbroken smile as David wrapped one arm around her shoulder. Neal's crying suddenly filtered through the room and his mother fled quickly, turning to pick him up and likely to compose herself.

"Emma and I had Christmas while we were in New York," Henry added, looking guilty. "It was different than the fake memories. Our apartment didn't allow for real trees, so we made popcorn and hung strands around the place before eating the rest of it and watching a bunch of movies. It was awesome, but I was kinda excited to have everyone here for Christmas too."

David smiled and went to pat but the boy's back but Kilian-

Killian thought back to their little blue house, devoid of any trappings. Before he had noticed the strange signs in town, Emma's hadn't even brought the holiday up to him.

"-ian, Hook?" By Henry's odd look, he had been staring off into space for some time.

The pirate forced a smile. "Apologies, what was that lad?"

The patented look of teenage disapproval he was graced with had strong elements of the Queen's own arched look of displeasure. "I was asking if mom was alright. Should we go look for her?"

Somehow, having her family pounce all over her seemed not to be the best way to go. "No Henry, your mother is a tough lass. She'll be fine. I'm sure you'll see her tomorrow for the selection of the tree."

The boy eyed him suspiciously for a moment, the same look he gave him when he thought Hook may have implied that he and Emma were leaving and would like not be disturbed for a period of time. After a beat, however, he simply nodded and reached for another cookie. "Okay."

Said cookie abruptly vanished from his hand. "Mom!"

"That would be your fifth one today, Henry. Don't think I haven't seen you sneaking them when my back was turned."

"But mom, it's _Christmas_!"

Regina stared back, eyebrow arched. "Not for another twenty-two days, by my count."

This set up a series of ludicrous bargaining between the boy and his mother:

"So on Christmas Day, I can have as many as I want?"

"No, then you'll spend Christmas night sick."

"So if I don't get to have cookies, can I get the new Xbox?"

"I don't-Henry, what?"

Dave chimed in, weighing in on Henry's side, more to piss Regina off than because he actually believed a preteen should be able to inhale as much sugar as he possibly could, Killian suspected.

(Bridges may have been mended and Snow and Regina were probably actual friends, but he knew Dave would never _quite_ forget the woman who cast a sleeping curse on his wife; could never resist the urge to undermine her within the boundaries of their new relationship. Killian knew because _he_ never forgave her for begging Emma to use dark magic to save Robin, the start of that terrible path. And he might have given up his pursuit for vengeance as a pirate, but age-old tendencies _may_ also have led him to slip a mild laxative in the wine she drank last week with them at Granny's.

Even Emma had failed to look stern when the queen hastily departed, ribbing him without the slightest bit of force)

Using the commotion, Hook quietly slid to the foyer, opening and shutting the door behind him. The cold wind was just as abrasive as the sudden heat of the loft had been, and he drew in a deep breath before stepping out.

Emma stepped into her house, teeth chattering lightly from the chill as she shook her boots off and threw the beanie from her head. Her down-lined coat was hung carelessly on a hook by the doorway and she turned to the sound of a crackling fire.

There was her pirate, splayed out on the couch with a beautiful hard-bound copy of Treasure Island in his hands, fire started, two glasses of amber liquid untouched on the table. He glanced up at the noise and warm blue eyes crinkled in greeting when he caught sight of her.

Emma's heart warred between fondness and guilt, shuffling over slowly with a sniffle from her red nose as Hook lightly closed the book, setting it on the end table behind him. He made a move to sit up, but she slid onto him before he could complete the motion, sprawling out beside and half on-top of him causing him to let out a whoosh of air. Emma laid her head on his collarbone, curling her cold feet under his warm shins and frigid fingers under his shoulders. She wriggled a bit, getting comfortable and heard a slightly breathless chuckle under her.

"Situated, my love?" His breath was hot on her head, lips pressing against her hair.

She nodded, pressing her cheek into the open flesh left by his shirt despite the weather.

("Killian, we need to get you some proper winter gear."

"I assure you Swan, I am quite adaptable to any environment."

"Yeah, leather's not going to cut it for Maine in January. You need something with insulation."

"Why love, I spent centuries only in leathers traveling to lands far more perilous than this one. Besides, I know how fond of them you are."

"I am _not_ fond of frostbite and hypothermia. Besides, weren't they all, like, tropical places you went to?"

"Of course not. Have I never told you about the time Smee got stuck ice-fishing and I had to careen the Jolly half-way into an iceberg to free him?"

"...You totally just made that up. Look, Killian, you don't even button your damned shirts-"

"Which you _obviously_ don't appreciate with all the times you snuggle there."

"That's-I do not _snuggle_. Fine, you know what, get yourself sick. Just don't expect me to coddle you when you come down with a cold."

"Never dreamt of it lass.")

Emma sat quietly, simply soaking in the warmth of the fire and the pirate as she _snuggled_ into the warm patch of open skin. His arms came up to rub down her chilly sides and she saw that he had already removed his brace. They stayed entwined like that for long moments, breathing in the contented scents of peace and love and _home_ while Hook stroked soothingly across her back, absently kissing into her hair. Her heart swelled with affection even as her stomach clenched in remorse.

 _This man_.

Seeming to sense her shift, he spoke softly into the top of her head. "Ready to talk about it Swan?"

Emma swallowed against him, trying to organize her straying thoughts. First things first.

"I'm sorry I left you. David sent me a text. I didn't mean for you to walk home." Even with a few short words, her father's recriminating tone ran through the phone. _You left him._

She felt the light hum vibrate through his chest. "I enjoyed the walk Swan. There's nothing that clears a man's head quite like a pace by the sea. No harm done."

"Killian, it's freezing outside."

He chuckled, arms hand sliding down her arm to shake the chill and reaching for one of hers, tucked under him. "Not all of us have little icicles for fingers love."

He punctuated his statement by bringing her hand up and blowing hot air onto the chilled appendages, placing a light kiss on each knuckle before repeating the action with the other hand. He dropped her hands to his chest, shifting back slightly to nuzzle her head, encouraging her to lean her face to meet him. The tenderness overwhelmed her and Emma could do nothing but comply, gaze meeting his warm look. Without thinking, she reached for his face, cupping his jaw and stroking it softly. A wan smile pulled at her lips.

"There she is," Hook smiled back, drifting his own touch across her cheekbones, "my beautiful Swan."

He placed a light kiss to the tip of her nose and she shuddered. "It's not...I don't hate Christmas. I mean, yeah the music gets a little repetitive and I think tinsel makes the biggest mess ever but…"

He waited, _always waiting for her,_ as Emma tried to sort her thoughts, anchored by the hand on her face and the warmth of his body beneath hers. "I never had Christmas growing up. I got candy canes from teachers and sometimes a new toothbrush or something from an Operation Christmas box. It was just this big holiday centered around everything I never had and I knew Santa wasn't real in Kindergarten….and then I grew up and never really bothered to celebrate it. Even that year in New York with Henry. I mean, I did stuff for the kid because I never wanted him to miss out-but the Hallmark tree and caroling or whatever, just never really suited me. And now I have everything I wanted and it's just-I'm really just being stupid because I wished for parents to spend Christmas with and I have them, have _you_ , and I want to give you Christmas traditions and do everything right."

She had to stop, pull in a breath and steady herself again. "But then I was in my parent's loft and everything was so _perfect,_ you know? And I can't bake or make wreaths or untangle some damned lights and it...seemed like I didn't belong there. I mean, everyone else in this town is from a place without Christmas and they seem to all know what they're doing. But I'm _from_ here and I can't seem to figure it out." Emma's babbling now and she knows it. "It's like I spent so much time without or avoiding the holiday that I'm some sort of anti-Christmas mutant. Like poinsettias might die if I touch them. Or...maybe I spent so much time alone that even with everyone I'll just keep fucking this whole family thing-"

His kiss was hard, but chaste and Emma nearly sighed in relief because she had no idea quite where she had been going or when she would have stopped. She just couldn't seem to describe how the whole holiday was making her feel like that foster kid again, standing on the outside looking in with hands too clumsy to hold onto anything _real._ She knew her parents loved her, her son, Hook. She truly did but…

He nibbled on her bottom lip lightly before pulling away, grip banding around her as if she might try to escape from her spot against him and expression fierce before softening. "You do not fuck anything up, Emma. You are not broken, and you were certainly _never_ meant to be alone. Your family loves you, lack of culinary skills and all."

He feels the soft smile he was going for pressed against his chest, where her head burrowed once again. "You bring light to the darkness, and through all of the moving pictures you and your son have shown me regarding the upcoming festivities, there is no greater epitome of this upcoming holiday than that. You give of yourself selflessly every day, rather than the fat old man who only does it once a year."

(It occurs to Emma that she may need to clarify to him that Santa, is not in fact, real. After all, even though this town has enough magic to make her head spin…

It occurs to her that Santa Claus could totally be real but she shuts that thought off before it gives her a migraine.)

"And while your parents may indulge in the baking of more edible sweets than I imagine an army could eat and selecting a proper tree to worship-"

"-Hook, it's not...we don't pray to the tree or anything."

"You adorn it with many treasures and place a sign of the celestial heavens on its top, do you not?"

Emma blinked. You know what, the whole tree thing was weird. "Yes, and I don't get it either but it's not religious. Mostly. I think. Whatever."

"Ah. As I was saying, your lovely parents have their own traditions to chose from and celebrate but that by no means that we have to chose the same ones, Swan." He continued, stroking a hand through her hair absently now. "I want nothing more than to indulge at every opportunity with you, but seeing as neither of has any traditions for this holiday, perhaps we could select some together? Pick things that suit us."

She blinked and raised her head again to stare up at him because he was so right and it was so _simple_. This was _their_ first Christmas too, a day to make new traditions to follow in a new life that they were building in this house. And Killian didn't care that she couldn't cook worth a damn or do arts-and-crafts. Since when had they _ever_ been conventional? He loved her and she loved him and they were together and _alive_ and if they wanted to buy an indoor grill and make hamburgers and drink margaritas on Christmas, they damn well could.

Emma felt the grin splitting her face as her eyes watered with emotion, so she rose up and gave him a sloppy, wet kiss to keep them from spilling.

The way he opened his mouth immediately told her that he didn't really mind.

They spent long minutes, stretched on the couch just tasting each other, rolling tongues against jaw, wet slides of lips, nibbling teeth. It was unrushed but stoking, building the warmth between them with each pass of mouth-on-mouth, hands on flesh. When Emma unconsciously pressed her hips onto his, Hook bucked beneath her and pulled away, holding her at arm's length as they both panted heavily.

She felt his hardness beneath her, but the boyish grin on his face seemed to imply that he had no immediate concern for addressing it. Instead, Killian reached out to push back some of the hair that had fallen into her face during their make-out session. His bad arm fell to rest on her ass, seemingly content to just have her in his grasp.

"So Swan, what customs should we create for ourselves this year?" The pirate's eyebrows wiggled obscenely and Emma couldn't help but laugh.

"Well...I like hot cocoa but I have that every day...Maybe we could dunk candy canes in them? That was always good. _Oh My God-_ -no, you haven't even had one yet have you!?"

Killian continued to look at her with affectionate confusion as she dove up from her sprawl to sprint into the kitchen, coming back with a red-and-white striped box of j-shaped candies. She pulled two out, unwrapping them and handing one to him with girlish glee.

"You've got to try it, Hook. They're one of God's gifts to mankind."

He honestly thought that the sheen about the thing made it look less than edible and would rather keep his free hand to hold her, but the light flickering between her eyes made him hold his tongue and sit up to accept the treat. Even if the damned thing tasted like horse piss, he was going to manage it if it kept her grinning like that.

Emma shuffled next to him, waiting anxiously for him to-

"You lick it, or suck on it." She explained, giving him a demonstration that he would truly have assumed was an invitation to bed if she hadn't looked so innocent in girlish anticipation and glee.

Hook almost groaned, but did as she bid, flicking his tongue out tentatively.

It tasted a bit like the tooth scrub she used, but sweeter. Certainly not as awful as horse piss. Content, he went to lick the treat again, seemingly to her delight.

"Alright, so is there anything you've seen so far about Christmas that you like?" He kept his eyes studiously on the fire before them and had the sudden urge to drop the damn candy cane and pick up the rum, because he knew this conversation was important but she had just started _sucking the tip._

 _Don't be a wanker._ Killian forced his thoughts into order to catch her question. "I like the lights. Not the ostentatious garish display of all manner of blinking tones at Granny's or the suspiciously sharp ones your father was putting up. The little white ones, a house down by the docks had them. They reminded me a bit of stars over the sea."

He felt Emma nod beside him, a notebook and pen suddenly procured in her hands. He grinned affectionately. His woman and her lists.

("Swan, why must we write down what _we_ wish to buy at the market? It's hardly anyone else's business."

"It's so we don't forget."

"Emma, you recall what the git in your class looked like when you were eleven, down to his eye colour and surname. I doubt you'll forget we need chocolate milk."

"Names and faces are different, Killian. I just-they just stick in my head. For groceries, I need lists."

"Come now, Swan-"

"Really? Can you remember everything off the top of your head that we need to pick up?"

"Chocolate milk for the lad, grapefruit, eggs, that red cat-soup you so love-"

"-ketchup, Hook."

"-Right. Cheese. Bread. A vegetable I can actually convince you to consume. Fish, fresh not the god-awful concoction in a can you got last time."

"Jesus, it was tuna."

" _That_ , was not fish. I will be picking the fish this time. Peanut butter. Those little bars you're so fond of…"

"Energy bars. Don't crinkle your nose at me, pirate."

"...Emma, nothing shaped like that can possibly be actual sustenance."

"But Oreos don't freak you out?"

"Oreos are a gift from the gods sent to civilize you lot. Now stop interrupting, love. Grapes, oranges, that orange squiggly pasta thing Henry loves, bacon, your dreaded pop tarts, coffee, clothing soap, oh and possibly the spray we use for the kitchen."

"...You can seriously remember all of that in your head?"

"I did have to stock a ship for quite a few years love."

"I hate you and if we forget anything, you're going back to get it.")

"Stop smirking about the damned list, Killian," She said without looking up, adding 'white lights' in her messy scrawl under 'candy canes'. The pen went under her chin, tapping.

"And I know I don't want a tree but what about Henry? I know he loves the idea of being a part of a big Christmas. He said it was always so lonely with Regina and we couldn't do a lot of things in a New York City apartment...I did take him to see the tree lighting though. Maybe...could the three of us go again this year?" She said soft and hopefully, and he almost wanted to laugh at the idea that there was something he _wasn't_ willing to do to keep her like this: open and warm and making plans for the future, unafraid. While taxis and the smog still bothered him, he had developed a faint fondness for the city through accompanying Swan and her boy to their favourite pizza joints, to a picnic in Central Park, and to a small maritime museum next to the Long Island Sound.

(His heart still clenched at that memory, the realization that he was not only a bystander they let come with them on their trips, but a companion they included in their adventures, because even though Henry was nearly equally excited, the museum had clearly been for him.)

"I'd love to go with your boy and you to the ceremony. It's good to get out of town for a while." He responded simply, stroking his stump down her arm at her shy, delighted smile.

"Alright, anything else you want?"

Hook had to pause for that one. He was tempted to just state that he wanted her and Henry and a calm, villain-free day but that seemed like it would tempt fate. He thought of all the customs that seemed to come with the holiday he had recently discovered. Was there another…

"I should like to gift you something, and if you don't believe it's overstepping, perhaps Henry as well?"

She scowled for one moment and Killian worried he had pushed her too far before she said, "No wrapping paper."

His breath whooshed out in a chuckle of relief and he raised his hook. "Promise, darling."

Emma chuckled along with him, nodding. "We can pick something out for my parents together. It's what most people do and will prevent you from getting my dad a pirate apron or a sword or something equally ridiculous."

He grinned. It wasn't as though the lady was wrong.

"And yeah, as long as I can get you something too, I'm fine with presents."

The gentleman in him wanted to protest, wanted to remind her that she had given him a home and a family; had gone to _find him in the Underworld_. Even without glancing over, he knew it was a moot point. Instead, he nodded and made the mistake of looking back over to her when he said

"Aye".

Because if watching her lick the damn thing when it looked like an alphabet letter was arousing, her sucking on the curved edge now that it looked like...like..a…

"Hook," Killian breathed, feeling his cock instantly renew back to life with a hard press against his jeans as he stared at her. A distressed noise escaped his throat, close to a whine. "...Swan-a hook. That..it looks like my-"

Emma sat beside him, close enough for him to smell the sugar on her skin, feel the heat of her despite the crackling fire. Her fair hair fell loose and comfortably, errant locks covering her cheek from how her head was tilted downward, pen tapping against the list as she sucked the remnants of her candycane between kiss-reddened lips. Her tongue swirled out, licking the stripes as she bobbed the treat in her mouth. Feet fucked under her, he could see that she was wearing _his_ socks, the blue wool making her pale skin seem near alabaster and-

He was so hard so rapidly he was nearly incoherent, pupils blown and body trembling at her nearness. "Emma-"

"Hmm," She turned to him then, tilting her head and glancing up between her eyelids, still sucking. Her face remained a mask of polite curiosity, but there was a mischievous, dark spark in her green eyes and he knew.

 _She was doing it on purpose._

Killian was frozen, eyes darting all over her as Emma leaned forward, popping the candy from her mouth with an obscene noise and placing it on its wrapper. "What is it-" Her voice dropped octaves as she leaned closer, breasts brushing softly against his chest as she reached over him, to the end-table where he had laid his brace hours ago, pulling it back to her slowly, eyes still locked onto his. She pulled his brace into his line of vision, kneeling so they were chest-to-chest now, lips inches apart. He didn't think he was breathing, blood boiling into vapors of madness.

Never letting her eyes drop, she brought the hook to her lips, and placed the curve point between her lips, giving it a delicate, wet kiss.

"-Hook?"

He was on her in a second.

There was a heavy thump as brace and hook were unceremoniously dumped to the floor, her hands pinned above her head in a swift move and his lips plying hers with a savage kiss. Killian rolled his hips against hers in a dirty grind, letting her feel what her antics had caused.

She moaned into his mouth. A wicked grin formed as he moved down her jaw, behind her ear, nipping down her neck with sharp little tugs of teeth.

"Oh, you've done it now lass." His voice was liquid, dark and curling heat between her thighs, panting wet breaths into her flesh. "Taunting me with that damned treat between your lips. Is this what you wanted, my love? For me to take you hard and fast against this couch?"

Emma moaned again as his hand slid under her shirt, tweaking a nipple harshly, then pulling it into his wet mouth through the fabric.

Her hips bucked and she squirmed, needing to get more. To get him to where she was _aching_.

His mouth moved inches from hers, but pulled back when she leaned up for a kiss. She swallowed her whine, glaring instead.

"Is it love?" Killian grinned, giving another unfair roll of his hips, catching her heat with his erection.

Her muscles clenched and she snarled. "Is what it, Killian?" She was going to murder him if he didn't speed the fuck up.

He pinched her nipple again and she cursed, thrashing. "Do you want me to take you _here_ Swan? Touch deep inside you until you clench on my cock, wetting me so well? I love how I look, glistening from you, how I smell when you are dripping off me."

 _Jesus._ The man knew what his voice did to her, as decadent as sin now that it was roughened with desire. "Yes, fuck Killian. Just do it now or I will ride you until that stupid smirk falls off your damned face."

She could almost hear the lightbulb go off inside his eyes and Emma felt a swell of anticipation make her tremble.

"Will you now? Let's see if you're up for the challenge, up you go."

He removed his body from over her and she could have cried at the sudden chill she felt. The chill that increased as they both hastily shed clothes. His hand came over to swat her flank, urging her onto her knees. Emma wanted to be strong, to fight him and take control again. She briefly thought about taking him in her mouth and teasing him back, but she was too keyed up and his mouth was so _good_ and they had never done it like this, with her on top. Instead, she followed his urging and braced her hands on the top of the couch, holding herself above his waiting lips and felt her nerves returning.

What if she crushed his nose or he had trouble breathing? What if he got liquid in his eye, that could hardly be sanitary-

Killian cut off her thoughts by wrapping one arm around her, bringing her within reach and giving a quick swipe of her core that stole her breath. He felt her thighs tense on either side of his head and laughed, biting gently into the tender flesh of one before catching her gaze again. "Well darling, this was _your_ fantasy of riding me. Get settled now, you're doing the work."

Her eyebrows arched at his smug expression, but he placed his hand on her hip and urged her to move. Slowly, Emma started to flex her hips in a rolling motion, gasping each time sensitive flesh came into contact with his tongue. Hook, the ass that he was, helped keep her balance by wrapping his arms around her hips but did very little in the way of further assistance, forcing her to rub herself onto his wet tongue and push her own clit onto his nose. The soft passes were warm, but she was too desperate to keep the slow pace. Gradually, Emma sped up her movements until she was thrusting the sensitive button against him, fucking herself onto his tongue. It felt nice, the dirty penetration of his tongue and the pressure on her clit but it wasn't enough. It wasn't like when he went down on her, drawing spirals with the wet appendage while opening her with his fingers, then alternating. The memory of Killian going down on her made her wetter and Emma heard the whine tear from her throat. She couldn't come like this and they both knew it.

"Killian…" She hated him. She really did.

She felt his rumble against her lips, fingers squeezing her hips in acknowledgement. His voice was muffled under her but the noise made her shudder, vibrations shooting up her spine. "Was there something else you wanted, Swan?"

She ground her core against him again. "Killian, fuck I-"

He gave her a dirty swipe with his tongue. "Oh- _Oh_ shit- _Hook_!"

She knew what he was waiting for, knew how to end this torment. It had started after one of their post-coital discussions, the little tidbits of intimate information shared in the afterglow, hard facts made easy by the flush of orgasms. She knew it wasn't about making her _beg,_ exactly.

("Swan, would it be terribly rude of me to ask you something of the sexual nature?"

"Killian you just made me come four times. Ask whatever the fuck you want."

"Climaxes get me answers. Noted for future reference love. For now, however, and I am in no means criticizing your form, but I was curious-"

"Just spit it out already. I'm going to be out in about five minutes."

He fiddled with a lock of her hair, an affectionate twinkle in his eye. "While I did make you scream for me less than an hour ago, I have noticed that you tend to be...less vocal about your desires in bed than say, you are when you need coffee. Is that a trait from your realm or is that a Swan idiosyncrasy?"

She hoped the flush covered her blush and turned her head slightly away from his touch, only to be nudged back with an encouraging nudge of his chin. She mentally sighed. It was better than when he had asked how many consecutive orgasms she had before, at least.

("Two, Swan?! What the bloody fuck have your previous lovers been doing?!"

"They were one night stands, Killian. I had to learn how to come. Seriously, not a big deal. Drop it."

"I will not...two? That's how poor your previous paramours performed? Your indomitable spirit aside, you _look_ like a woman who deserves at least four."

"Glad you find me hot but seriously, it's not a big-"

"It is a big deal, Swan! You've been dealt a terrible injustice that I seek to rectify. I swear to the gods, reaching completion only twice during intimacies with your partner in your lifetime is a damned crime.")

"It's a me thing. I've just-Well there were only one night stands after Neal and it's not like it's worth the time to get to know someone when that's all it is. I guess I just never learned to?" _Or trusted anyone to know_.

"Ah." A nod.

"Ah. That's it?"

"Aye, Swan. Just a little matter that is easily rectified. Nothing to worry yourself over."

"Oh. God. You are going to make this, like, _a thing_ aren't you? It's not a big deal, you know."

"I'm afraid we have to disagree there, darling. I consider your comfort in discussing the intimate needs of your own body and carnal fantasies to be quite a 'large deal'. Besides, you have yet to complain about my response to the abysmally low performance of your past partners."

"...It's a little hard to complain when you _literally_ can't count how many times you've come."

"My point exactly, love."

So while tormenting her was more Killian teaching her how to be in an actual, loving, long-term relationship than a power play, it still made her want to beat him with a stick. Or kiss him senseless. But right now, it was beat him with a stick.

Emma made one more wet roll with her hips before she felt her composure snap. "Please, Killian, I need to come."

She would have been embarrassed at the strain in her voice if it hadn't gotten her what she wanted so quickly. In a blink, Hook had her on her back, discarded hook back in play and rubbing through tender flesh, tongue tapping against her clit until she gave a small cry and jolted her pelvis.

Killian winked at her. Fucking winked. "There's a good Swan. I love to make you feel good, sweetheart. Don't you know that? Do you know I live to give pleasure to you, live to watch you unravel. You are so beautiful when you come, love. Please, always tell me what you need. Let me know what your heart's desire is. Let me know when you feel unsure or alone. I'm here, my love. I'm here and you will never be alone again. I'm here to chase the demons away. It's alright, Swan. Let go now, I have you."

The words, the vibrations tingled all the way to her fingertips, to her soul. The protective enclosure of his lips on her clit, tongue writing love all over it. The sudden presence of gentle, sliding fingers inside of her as the cold metal was put aside. It was all too much and Emma _came_. Her eyes slammed shut and her head was thrown back, back arching impossibly high as white filled her ears. She heard her own scream until the world faded out, endlessly.

She came back to the world in slow increments. Emma felt a strong arm supporting her back, felt a warm presence hovering over her. She felt her toes, pressed into a familiar shin, hair scratchy against her. She felt her heart slow its tempo, chest dropping into rhythm after heaving. Warm fingers were wiping moisture from her face and when Emma opened her eyes, she realized she had been crying.

Impossibly blue eyes crinkled in a soft smile when he met her gaze. He kept his tone low, lilting. "Alright there, Swan?"

With his hand cradling her head, arm supporting her back, and warmth blanketing her, Emma wanted to tell him that she was more than _alright_. She felt safe and cherished and loved. She wanted to tell him that he reached down into that deep ache inside her and made it hurt a little less, made the scar tissue fade. But her brain was still hazy so instead Emma turned her head and kissed the center of his palm, smiling back up at Killian.

"I love you."

His face went from warm to glowing to so damn tender that it made her eyes tear up again and so she leaned forward, wrapping around him and nuzzling there to avoid embarrassing herself again. His arm followed her, supporting her weight as she felt the soft smile against her cheek.

"Aye, and I you Swan. I want you to be intimate as you please, have holidays just as you wish, the life you truly desire. I live to make you happy, so let me, hmm love?" There was a faint edge to his tease, a rebuke for walking away from him earlier and letting thoughts of _not good enough_ consume her. But there was such open affection and joy in his voice that Emma only scooted closer, lids heavy as she breathed him in.

"M'kay." She rubbed herself against him again, but felt something heavy press against her thigh.

A click went off in her head. "Killian you-"

He shook his head. "Later love."

Emma frowned, her brow furrowing as she glanced between them. "Killian, that _looks_ painful."

It had been, at the start. But somehow his need to drive into her had morphed into something softer, _loving_. "It's fine sweetheart. I'll let you repay me after a nap, aye? Then we can finish our rum and figure out whatever other clever ways to celebrate the upcoming holiday."

She probably could have argued further if she wasn't already half-asleep in his lap, but she had to get one last word in. Keeping her eyes closed, she slid a hand down his belly, wrapping it around his erection and giving a tug that made him jump.

"Wrap this up for me for Christmas?"

She felt his laughter shake both their frames, a rich and velvet sound she wanted to drink.

"Wear your...what did you call it, _naughty santa,_ outfit for me?"

"Not until Christmas night. We have Henry Christmas Eve."

"Aye, love."

And as Emma felt sleep drag her under, sated and impossibly content she heard Killian humming Silent Night.

Maybe Christmas carols weren't so bad.


End file.
